Somewhere I Belong
by gundam06serenity
Summary: After the war, unable to stay with those who judge him, he leaves, to find himself. Witness to an attack, intervening opens up a whole new world of possibilities and of dangers. Yaoi, Naruto crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**Somewhere I belong**

Naruto- Gundam Wing crossover

Pg13-Nc-17

02xShino

KakaIru, 05xSas, ItaNej, 03x01, 04x06, HakZab

**Summary- **After the war, unable to stay with those who judge him, he leaves, to find himself. Witness to an attack, intervening opens up a whole new world of possibilities- and of dangers. Yaoi, Naruto crossover

**Warnings: **Yaoi, crossover, slight alterations to Naruto plot- nothing major.

**Chapter one: Office Hours**

Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick

The hands slowly crept around and around. Glazed, bored orbs followed its path, keeping watch avidly.

Click-click, click-click, click-click.

The steel-tip of a black fountain pen repeatedly tapped against the cheep desk top, long, slender, pale fingers idly twirling.

"Mmmmmmmm" He let out a long, leisurely yawn. He sat slumped in his black computer chair, angular chin resting on one scarred, calloused hand.

He could hear the chatter of men and women drifting through into his office, a dull drone filling in the silence even through a closed door. It was a small office, but it was his. He had earned it.

He glanced at his inbox one last time, finding it empty, as it had been the last time he had checked it, and the last. It had been for days. He had given up on checking his in tray weeks earlier. No-one sent him anything of importance-he was never set anything even vaguely important to do2.

'One year…almost one year since the war ended. Did I not prove myself then? Did I not fight the good fight by their side as an equal? I gave as much as they did to achieve this peace….I-I thought, that once the fighting was done…that they would, that they may…..'

He glanced up at the doorway. Nothing. It was becoming too much. Silence, ridicule, ridicule, silence. 'I was wrong.'

It had been one year since the war had ended, and the Preventors had been firmly established with Lady Une at the head. It had taken little to convince one Chang Wufei, still guilt-ridden, still with a strong sense of justice, still seeking a meaning, a purpose to his life, to become an agent.

For once, Heero Yuy was easy to trace. He hadn't run far this time, nor hidden as desperately as he had before. He had gone as far as the arms of his emerald-eyed lover, Trowa Barton, for whom the pleasure of performing in the circus had disappeared, leaving him feeling empty. Each had agreed readily to join.

Quatre Raberba Winner, however, had turned down the offer. He had had more than enough of fighting and killing the first time around, thank you very much. He was content to run his fathers business with his sisters, to take a minor role in politics and on the Preventors board of governors – 'Just in case', and to see his lover, a certain ice-eyed ex-prince.

Milliardo Peacecraft chose to step down from the Preventors soon after the Mariemaya incident. He chose, instead, to take an advisory role to his sister in her new political role.

Duo, however… he had turned up at Headquarters one day. He was in Une's office before first light, making himself comfortable and at home. He was there to offer his services-as an agent.

They hadn't taken him seriously, from the get-go.

Heero remembered the hours upon hours of inane chatter. Talking a mile a minute, never letting silence lay for more than a moment.

Trowa remembered his immaturity and his appetite. Acting like a child at times, always eating junk food, making a general nuisance of himself

Une remembered his endless, ridiculess pranks, both on herself, and on those under her command.

Even his best friend could not take him seriously, no matter what.

He had, though, despite this, been hired. He had expected respect, a fresh start, a chance to prove himself. However, old assumptions seemed hard for others to forget. Too hard.

"I might as well go home-I'm not doing any good here" He thought to himself, frowning. He span around once in a full circle on his chair. Stretching, he stood, scooping up his jacket, wallet and keys on the way.

He steeled himself. Gritting his teeth, he forced his frown to fall, replacing it with a half-hearted smile. 'Let's get this over with, then'

He slunk out from his office, smoothly slipping through the corridors. He smiled pleasantly, returning greetings and friendly-jabs from the few colleagues who attempted to get to know him-who never wanted, truly, to see behind the 'war-hero' ideal that they had built around the idea of him, and his comrades, with a quick retort and a wave, eager to be away from them all.

'Almost there, almost home-free' he thought, as he neared the end of his floor, fasting approaching the elevators..

"Leaving early once again, Agent Maxwell?" A stern voice called out after him. He froze. He rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture, turning to face the music.

"Well, you see-" HE started.

"No need to explain, Duo" The middle-aged, steel-haired old battle ax, also known as the head receptionist for Lady Une and the Special Agents Department herself, softened. Hard watery blue eyes held a gentle edge, ever-present frown softening as she gazed upon him.

He reminded her of her grandson. A charming boy, he had been, her second eldest-Ella's only child. Always with a smile, a kind word and a joke to cheer you up, and always in trouble at school. He just seemed like a magnet as far as it-trouble- and bullies, were concerned.

They had lost him to the war. He hadn't been a soldier-heaven forbid! But he had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, when a mobile-suit battle between a gundam and a Taurus had gotten too close to the city, to a school. He had been crushed under the remains of the Taurus-or so the authorities had thought. Little was identifiable in the crater left by the final shots from the gundam – from Deathscythe.

She had found out, of course. That she would be working with the murderer of her one and only grandson. Her children- her daughter, Ella, and her two sons, Von and Peter, had taken the news far harder than she, at first, at least, had.

Flashback

"_How can you stand to be in the same building as that-that monster, let alone work with him? Have you no shame? No love for him memory? Did Dru's death mean nothing to you?" Ella cried hysterically at her mother, pacing, gesturing wildly. Her hair was in a mess, her makeup streaking down her cheeks._

"_Stop this nonsense at once! This mindless prejudice is why I work there- why we still need people working with us at the Preventors-to stop old hatreds and grudges from arising again. It was a war, Ella. He was still a child himself-the young man who was defending himself, fighting for what he believed in, when the accident happened." She scolded her daughter._

"_Of course Dru's death meaning something to me. It means a lot- the elderly should never have to bury the young, child or grandchild. But it means nothing-nothing in comparison to his life. Do you understand? That is how Dru would like to be remembered. He wouldn't want his death to tainted with hatred."_

End of Flashback

She had seen how he had been treated from day one. She had been just as band at first toward him; cold and aloof. In return, he had been nothing but pleasant and polite to her. It hadn't taken long for her heart to soften to him.

The final straw had been on his anniversary-a year since her Dru's death. She hadn't been allowed to take the day off of work-no excuses as to why, just a clipped no from her superiors. The most beautiful bouquet of flowers had arrived for her at home that morning before she set off for work. A smaller, matching one waiting for her at her desk.

Her daughter had called up within the first hour of her shift, explaining that Dru's grave had been covered in them-the most beautiful lilies and roses, his favourite, all in white.

She had thought they had been from Une-an apology for not allowing her the day off. They hadn't. she had just looked up at her in confusion when she went to thank her. Puzzled, she had returned to her desk.

It wasn't until later that night that it had registered in her mind-his little smile and look of relief in his eyes, when he had passed her that morning, on the phone to her daughter, smiling through her tears. He had remembered them. Whether he was sorry for her grandsons death, or for her and her family, didn't matter as much anymore. He had remembered, and cared, that someone that he knew nothing of, someone who treated him abysmally, was upset, and had comforted her, in his own way. Just like her Dru.

"Thanks Millie-chan" He grinned at her weakly, a more sincere look than he used for most, but still nothing in comparison to what he was once like. "Are they-" He started to ask.

She let out a long sigh and nodded. He asked her the same question each day. "Yes Duo. Agents Barton, Yuy and Chang are still all on missions, as is agent Une in a meeting. I could let them know-"

"No, no. that's ok" He cut her off, turning back on his path to freedom.

She called after him "They'll never see what's right in front of them until it's missing" He paused briefly before continuing on. "Live for yourself, hun, you can't waste away waiting forever."

**End of chapter one**

**Authors notes: **Ah… any thoughts on chapter one? Please let me know. I'll update as long as there is still an interest. Thank-you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Somewhere I belong**

**Authors Notes: **

Thank-you for the all the reviews. I will not respond to each individually, however much I may want to, as I know it can be extremely annoying to be faced with a page or more of authors' notes before the chapter even starts.

Hopefully I will be getting my new laptop this week …. : Bounces up and down hyperly: I've been saving for one since January xD That means: More updates of more fanfics (hopefully) quicker! Yay…. ..'

I feel that I have to make an excuse for this chapter unfortunately. For those of you who haven't seen the movie, you may wish to skip this part. I hated how Duo so easily agreed to have Deathscythe destroyed, even if it was for the greater good. Hence a large chunk of this chapter.

youko-love – Yes, I did decide to use the pairing you suggested : ) I most likely would have paired Itachi with Sasuke and Wufei otherwise, or Neji with Gaara, as I have yet to attempt to fully use either character (Though I love them both xD I never would have thought to pair them together automatically…Though KakaItaIru could have been fun) Silent Revolutions next chapter, along with an explanation is being typed up shortly after this update, along with, if things go according to plan, another chapter of another fic.

**Chapter Two: Homeward bound**

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud

He made his way quickly and quietly down the stairs, having opted out of taking the elevator as so many other agents did.

Twelve floors. He was grateful, as usual, that his office was not higher up, as his former team-mates offices were.

'It's a quarter past four' he thought, glancing down at his gundanium wristwatch.

When that fateful day had drawn closer and closer- the day that he, along with Quatre, Trowa and Heero, would send their gundams into the sun, he had known that he could not do it. Not completely.

Deathscythe had been his one constant-his one friend, his protector, his comforter, his partner for so long. How could he betray him like that? How could he just-just forget him, destroy him by sending him into the inferno?

And so he had gone to Howard for help. The old man and his sweeper crew had been the closest thing to a family he had had in a long time. They had helped him, supported him, and hidden him when necessary, throughout the war whenever they could. They had offered him a safe place to stay-food, a bed, friendship, companionship if he so wished. They had treated his wounds and helped him hide from the enemy. They had repaired and provided parts for his beloved Deathscythe. They offered him a place amongst them.

He knew that if anyone could help him, then it would be them.

Flashback

"SO, can you do it?" he asked seriously, leaning over the metal railings. He faced away from the old man, looking out across the ocean. Violet sparkled with uncertainty and need, his anxiety blatantly obvious with every tense muscle and twitch of his stiffly poised body.

"Well shit, kid. You don't go doing things by halves, now, do ya?" the middle-aged man claimed, whipping his shiny, balding head with a plain handkerchief. He still had some of his hair, just, not all necessarily in the right places. He worse a violently pink-neon, and florescent green Hawaiian shirt with plain tan shorts and black flip-flops. Large, dark sunglasses glinted in the harsh midday sunlight, reflecting off of the endless blue surrounding them.

Duo blew at his bangs, one hand reaching up to pull the ever present silver chain out from beneath his loose white shirt. He had forgone the usual black for this trip, knowing that it would be far too hot to cope with. Instead, he wore a plain white silky shirt left completely undone, with long white cotton trousers and boots. He played with the cross, hanging delicately from the end of the chain.

"I know, Old man, I know. And I've left it to the last possible minute as well. But if anyone can do it, I know you can! Aww, come on now Howie-ya know I'm good for the money. I can pay you for it upfront."

"Flattery will get you everywhere"

Duo span around to face a grinning Howard. A small, childish smile started on plump cherry cherubim lips, before stretching into a wide grin.

He threw himself at the older man, hugging him enthusiastically. He could feel himself tearing up.

"And I'll have you know, I take offence at that" Duo drew back at his serious tone. A tanned, weatherworn arm stopped him, winding its way around his shoulders. Duo looked at him, bewildered. "Like I'd charge you. Brat." He ruffled Duo's hair.

He opened his mouth. Then closed it, searching for word. "I-I, I'm paying. That's final."

Howard sighed, ready for a fight. "You're family, Duo."

"Family or not, you're gonna need some help from some of the guys to get this little lot done on time. And they deserve to be paid, ne?" Duo argued.

"They all agree with me, kid. You're a part of the family. Family helps family." Howard insisted.

"Exactly why I'm paying. I have money. I don't need this much money. You have many people working here. Family helps family."

End of flashback

He had a fair bit stored away from the war – funds 'generously donated' from a variety of Oz bank accounts, hidden here and there. He had more hidden away than even Heero had. He knew what it was like to live with nothing. He wanted to make sure that he-and a select few special causes-never had to do so again.

Howard had come through for him, of course. The two of them had worked together, side by side, for three days straight. They had removed all of Deathscythe Hell's chest plate, along with a large part of the cockpit and head.

There had been no room for error-they couldn't just go back for more if they made and mistake and ran out of gundanium. It wasn't an option.

A select part of the sweepers' crew started work on replacing the missing parts with pieces of Leo remains, working non-stop to make them appear as though they had always been there.

On the forth day they sent their gundams into the sun. it hurt-hurt like he was destroying a part of himself-as though he had decided to cut off a part of his soul and just discard it, burnt it like trash. He didn't know how the other three could stand it. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if he hadn't have kept that part of Deathscythe Hell.

On the fifth day, they began working on it-on his project. It took them over a month to complete it, but they were just perfect. They were just what he had wanted, just how he had imagined them to be.

A watch-slim line, compact, durable; two guns-replicas of his favourite Colts that he had used throughout the war, with a shitload of ammunition; seven knives – two long bladed for close-combat, five short-bladed for throwing; two matching rings; a cross and chain made to replicate his silver one exactly; a bookmark; a sword-long and slender, made with skill to rival Wufei's own beloved Kanata with a matching, intricately designed scabbard, and, the most important of all-a laptop. Slim line, sleek and near-on indestructible, with all the safety measures that dear old Deathscythe herself had had in place. Safe and sexy as hell

Each item had his mark etched into them, the work 'Shinigami' done in swirling script with two small crossed scythes on either side.

Each made from parts of his old friend, the laptop installed and wired with parts of his old operating system.

They served as a reminder-they allowed him a connection with his past, with his partner, that mere memories alone could not do. Reminders of what he had done, who he had been, what he had fought for, what he had been willing to sacrifice, what he had been willing to kill for and to die for.

He made his way onto the sidewalk outside of Headquarters. He squinted up at the sky. Crystalline blue skys of earlier that morning had disappeared, replaced instead by stormy grey. Heavy rain clouds moved at a steady speed, looking as though they were ready to burst at any given moment.

"Great. Just great. Peachy." He muttered to himself, letting out a huff. He eyed the distance between the shelter of the overhanging enterence and the bus stop, almost at the end of the long, long street.

Taking a deep breath, he joined the streaming mass of afternoon shoppers and businessmen, making his way speedily through the sea of coats and umbrellas.

He had decided against investing in a car or bike. Each time he thought of it-of owning his own set of wheels, he felt excitement bubble up from the depths of his stomach. Yet each time he went to look around the lots, he felt cold and empty, the excitement of it all leaving him.

It just wasn't any fun without a person to share it with-a father figure to try and talk him into a more sensible model, a friend to argue over the greater aspects of the car he really wanted over the car that he knew his friend wanted, to watch with shared excitement and jealousy, a partner to help him make his choice. And so, instead, he had invested in a bus pass.

He had grown to like it. He had never liked the brief moments of silence, of feeling so alone when he was on his own, in a machine that was not his beloved Deathscythe. On the bus, that was never the case. Screaming children, chatty teenagers, tutting old women, people on their way to and from work. Never a dull moment, never a second of silence.

He waited, luckily, for a short period of time for the bus to arrive.

Clothes clinging to his still slender, short, lithe frame, he was drenched to the skin as he signalled to the passing 627, boarding with a smile and a flash of his pass.

The journey was like any other, arriving with the usual delays due to traffic, an argumentative passenger, and a wrong-turn made by the driver. They arrived at his stop within three quarters of an hour.

Skys still pouring, he darted from the bus, flying across the clean, cracked pavement, making it to the bottom of the small flight of stone steps within seconds.

Key in hand, he made it to the porch, quickly stepping inside. He took the stairs two at a time until he made it to his apartment door.

"Home…."

End of chapter two

To be continued.

Reviews would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere I belong

Authors Notes

:Twitches in annoyance: I stayed up until almost 3am finishing off this chapter on my laptop…only to loose the memory stick I saved it on. So now, I have to re-do it all again. Grr.

Review. Please.

Oh! I almost forgot---Are there any particular pairings or characters that I have not mentioned in chapter one that you would particularly like to see? Some characters I had planned to use anyway, even briefly, but do not necessarily have them paired up with anyone yet. Just let me know if there are any, okay: )

Chapter Three: Home

Click.

A pale, slim, calloused hand pushed at the paint flaking secure metal door, removing the small metal key from the sturdy lock with steady fingers.

Quickly, he stepped into his apartment. Closing the door behind him with one ha nd, the other reached blindly to type in the familiar, complicated code into the security system.

'_Code recognised; system altered. Welcome back, Duo'_

The electronic voice chimed, sounding remarkably like a certain someone he once knew.

He had designed the system himself, as he was sure each of them most likely would have done so for their own personal spaces. He, however, had not done it out of mere paranoia. He did not think himself important enough to warrant assassination, after all, he had no real power, and his money, in comparison to those like Quatre, Relena and other well-known people involved with the previous wars, was nothing.

He had more or less faded into the shadows, a forgotten war hero, as it should be; they did not need a street rat at their fancy parties and commemoration ceremonies.

He had never considered himself a hero, just as well, really, considering the thanks he received. He had just been trying to escape, to find something better, somewhere better. He had just wanted to find the one place where he truly belonged. But, alas, he had been sidetracked. Damned conscious, guilting him into fighting a war for people who couldn't give a damn about what was going on, who was dying, anything at all outside their perfect little bubble world, as long as it didn't intrude on their lives.

Why, then, had he done it? Guilt had been eating away at him for years. Those on the streets who hadn't been as lucky as him; not being fast enough to save his first and closest friend; not being good enough to live up to the promise he made to him as he lay dying a slow, agonising death, one that no child should have to suffer thorough; not good enough to save the Good Sister and Father, nor the thirty or so children lucky enough to be in their care; not strong enough to help them from that burning building.

He did it because it would help those few who did care, those many who, like himself, had been dealt a shitty hand by fate herself, and had little hope of a chance, even the slightest, of getting something for themselves in life.

Leaving a trail of water in his wake, he flicked on the light switch. Dim, florescent lights flickered to life in the blink of an eye, revealing a small, clean living room.

Cream and coffee colour, somewhat minimalist and surprisingly neat in design and keep, the room seemed warm and comfortable, if not a little….unlived in. not at all what one would expect from the self-proclaimed Shinigami himself.

Dark wooden floors, polished and clean, hid the trail of water quite well. A small, two seater couch and matching chair, both in cream, filled the majority of the small room, arranged in an L-shape, facing a fair-sized, but smaller than one would expect from the technically-obsessed and gifted teenager, plasma screen.

Beneath a single wall-sized locked window on the far wall stood a long, slender wooden cabinet, housing a small but well-used DVD collection that he and his best friend had spent many a night watching, when the loneliness grew too much for them both, or when they each had the same night off and wanted some form of human contact, however snarky it may end up being.

Quick, sharp insults may be traded, but never supported by a tense atmosphere. They were too comfortable with each other to let surface insults and banter have any real impact on what they had, on what they would always have.

Quickly shaking his coat, he left it to fall with a dull, wet thud. He wandered lazily towards the first of two doors. He pressed at his hair, twisting his braid to rid it of excess water. He did not bother to check his answer phone as he passed, knowing that the flashing number would still be zero. Had he have checked, he would have received no surprise.

He entered the tiny kitchen as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting the sodden material fall to the linonum floor with a splat. He had always hated this kitchen. The floor was vile-cheep looking and tacky. It had been the most common flooring in all of the 'upmarket' stores on L2 when he had been their as a child, the others leaving the metal and concrete that they were build from as the flooring.

The room reminded him somewhat of a coffin. Barely any room to move; counters on all sides, a large, well-used American-style refrigerator-second and, and a built-in oven on one of the chipped, abused countertops.

Usually, he had no problem with enclosed spaces. Piloting a mobile suit was testament enough to that in itself. But that room…it just…got to him. He knew what it was, even though he tried to deny it, to repress it. It reminded him so much….

The first time he had burnt something in there, near-on set the room on fire, it had reminded him of that night-the church-the children-Father Maxwell-Sister Helen.

The sounds of children screaming, the heat on his skin, the blinding flames blinding him, the smell of charred, burning flesh.

He had frozen.

If Wufei hadn't been there, who knows what would have happened.

'Though, how he could stand to act after what happened to L5…" He murmured, as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, toeing off his boots as he left the room.

He made his way to the last door. Another security pad sat beside the frame, blinking regularly.

Again, he typed in the code-a different one to the first, longer by far, waiting for the conformation light before pushing the door open.

A firm flick to the light switch caused warm wall lights to flash to life, glowing comfortingly either side of his simple, single bed.

He hadn't seen the point in buying a double, let alone a king sized he had no one to share it with-hell, if he had, do you really think he would have chosen an apartment that seemed to be doing its best to imitate a cupboard, in what was, admittedly, not the best of neighbourhoods. He had always been accustomed to staying in small, often uncomfortable places since childhood, as far back as he could remember. The war had only served to strengthen that habit. Even in peace, some habits couldn't seem to be forgotten.

He made his way across the rough carpeted room, unbuttoning his trousers as he went. Pushing them down past his hips, he stumbled out of them, making his way towards his favourite room of the house, his on suite bathroom.

It wasn't much really. Tiled-poorly at that, with a plain, ugly bulb hanging from the ceiling as the only lighting, there being no window in the small, cupboard like space. A toilet, a sink, a towel rail, a shower; not much to most, but he still appreciated it more than one would think.

He had learned to cope with the dirt and grime, the filth and stench that came with weeks without washing when needs be, but had grown to appreciate a long, hot shower-especially now that he had the time to appreciate it, not having to worry about receiving a mission at any given minute, being attacked any second, not having to consider his team-mates when using hot water.

He still couldn't see the appeal in a bath. Soaking in a scummy mixture of dead skin and whatever dirt had accumulated on ones skin during the day – how, exactly, was that supposed to be relaxing as Quatre claimed?

Unravelling the last of his braid, he turned on the dial, waiting for the clanky system to adjust to the correct temperature before stepping into the small cubical.

He let out a sigh. As the uncomfortably hot spray pounded down upon the ever lithe short, scarred form, his entire body seemed to sag. Shoulders dropped, stiff back relaxing, head falling back, as he allowed himself a brief reprise from everything, the warmth lulling him, soothing him.

'Another wasted day' He thought to himself as he reached for a bottle of unscented shampoo. 'I know I shouldn't think like this, but…damnit, I'm wasting my time-and theirs, just being here.

When I signed up, I did so because I thought I could make a difference, I thought I could be of some use. I'm not as stupid as they may think-I know I'm not the best at what I do, there's always someone out there better, but damnit, I deserve the same chance as everyone else in that building to prove myself.

It's not as if I expected special treatment when I went to Une-I just wanted to do what I do.

But what's the use? Stuck behind a desk nine till five, five days a week. I-I, I really don't think I can put up with this much longer."

Long, slender fingers paused in their ministrations, still threaded through long chestnut locks. 'What else would I do? I have nothing outside of the Preventors…Hildie's engaged not-not that we parted on good terms, exactly, after what happened…I cant keep running to Howard every five minutes-we'd drive each other nuts in the first two weeks, a month tops.

The colonies no longer have the same pull on me. The guys-well, they're all busy with their new lives. For the most part.'

He wrapped a towel around his waist, using another to rub at his hair. He made his way back into his indigo and cream bedroom, making a beeline for the window. He pushed it open, leaning out, looking up at the sky.

'I spent my entire childhood wondering, imagining, fantasising what it would be like down here. Then weather-rain, wind, snow, storms- the people, the seasons, the places. And for what? So when I finally made it, I spend my entire life cooped up in a tiny cheep apartment all by myself?

Is this what I really want? To waste my life away? Sometimes, sometimes I miss the war. Not the deaths or the killing. But the adventure, the unknown, the friendships and excitement…I-I want that again.'

He made his way slowly towards his bed. He sat down, legs crossed, cradling the cordless phone in his hands. He couldn't be bothered to go to the vidphone in the living room.

'I…I want to do something, before it's too late. I…owe it to myself.'

He typed in the familiar number, listening to the ring, as he waited for his best friend to pick up. The answer machine clicked on. He tried to hide his disappointment.

"Hey, Fei? I need to talk something over with you. I…need your advise on something…call me back when you get this message, kay?...Thanks"

To Be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere I belong; A gundam wing-Naruto crossover by gundam06serenity

Authors Notes V.1.0 : I need your opinions on a little matter: Kakashi. Now, he and 'Ruka-kun are going to be a couple. However, is their anyone you would like him to have been in a prior relationship with, or would like lil' Ruka to feel jealous/ insecure about around his man, or would like Kakashi to have a crush on?

Somewhere I belong: Chapter Four: Departures

_"But Mommy, I want a new teddy! What if I loose George on the way?"_

_"No, no, no! No more fast food! I have had more of enough of that crap to last me a lifetime at the good for nothing resort, thank you very much!"_

_"It's been delayed how long? You're fucking kidding me!"_

'I wonder what it'll be like as a passenger in a plane...' He wondered briefly, as he lent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He sat on a hard, metal airport seat. He didn't even attempt to get comfortable.

A little girl, no older than four, sat on the tacky, faded blue carpeted floor opposite him, by her mothers feet. She clutched a plushie in one arm, holding it tightly to her summer dress clad, small form. Her other hand was firmly raised, sleepily sucking on her thumb. She would fidget every now and then, glancing across at the violet eyed ex-pilot through long blond hair.

He pulled funny faced at her, grinning impishly as she let out a cheeky, infectiously bubbly stream of giggles.

He knew it would be hard to give up control. To put his like in the hands of a man or woman he had never met. But he had done it before, during the war. It had never been comfortable, but out of the five of them, he had coped with it the best. He always had. After all, one who has always had so little control over their own life, over their own destiny, their experiences, rather than clinging onto it-onto the need to be in control, as his ex-comrades seemed to.

In a way, this would be the most control he would have for a long time.

"I'm finally doing this...doing something for me. Not because it's right, or expected, or easy, but because i want to."

Flashback

"It's okay, it's okay. I can do this. I can do this." He murmured as he paced. Back and forth, back and forth, as he had been all morning, since he had first closed the door behind him when he had entered his office.

"I can do this!" Determination glinted in violet depths, as he exited his office, envelope clutched firmly in hand. Within it, his letter of resignation.

He made it as far as Une's secretaries desk.

She had been watching him with amusement for a while now. She smirked as he finally walked past her, stride strong and firm.

"I...cant do this." He spun on his heel, trying to slink back past her.

"Oh no you don't!" She said, snagging his sleeve. "Enough is enough. I thought you had made up your mind?"

He nodded tentivley, avoiding her gaze.

"What? Your little talk with Agent Chang didn't help you out as much as it usually does? I thought he would have been very supportive, considering." The aging secretary asked, frowning.

He looked down, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "He, ah, didn't call me back."

She blinked, half a dozen excuses on his behalf on the tip of her tongue. Missions, paperwork, stress, new recruits, training. It was all so much to expect of an adult, let alone a teenager.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. "I checked his mission log. I left three messages. And an email. Over four days. Nothing."

Her lips thinned, pressing into a tight, pale line. "Oh" She took a deep breath. "Well then, that just confirms it. You're making the right choice." She smiled at him softly. "I, for one, am proud of you."

End of Flashback

It had all been rather anti-climactic in the end, really. Some small part of him had still half-expected to, well, be talked out of it. Or at least given words of encouragement, or an apology. Anything. But no.

He had made it to Une's office, remembering to knock and wait despite his still-bubbling nerves. He had walked in confidently, more bravado than truth in his mask. He had held out the envelope. Words of his resignation on his lips.

Only to be met by a half-hearted wave, a motion for the letter to be left on her desk, and a quick dismissal. She didn't even pause in her phone call to greet him.

A disappointment in many ways, but such a relief in others this only confirmed it. He was making the right decision.

He stayed up into the early hours of the morning; planning, surging the net, booking tickets, making reservations, creating a rough route in his mind.

It had taken an additional three days to get his finances sorted, contact his landlord, and get his possessions down to what they once were; a duffle bag and a laptop case. Everything else was put into storage or sold.

It had taken one last attempt, one last call to his best friend to convince that final doubting part in him. No-one had answered. They were a part of his past now. No need to look back. He had his whole life ahead of him.

"Flight 547 to Los Angeles is now boarding. I repeat, flight number 547 to Los Angeles is now ready for passengers to board. Would business and first class passengers please..."

Duo stood with a small smile, a bounce in his step. He waved goodbye to the little girl, passport in hand, bag shouldered.

"First stop, the good ol' US of A"

To Be continued

Authors Notes: I apologise for the long delay. Please expect the next update sooner than the last. Please review. Thank-you!

Oh! And I almost forgot—expect the Crossover To Begin In Chapter Five: ) Again, sorry it took so long. I have decided to use flashbacks if necessary and to skim over some of the extra details i was going to put between this chapter, chapter four, and chapter five, which would have been about chapter eight or so. It's moving a little too slowly at the moment. Again, with the next chapter in mind, I remind you of a slight AU to do with certain characters/events due to my personal preference truth be told, as well as the need for it with this particular plotline. : )


	5. Chapter 5

Somewhere I belong: Chapter Five

AN: Believe it or not, this is the third first-draft of this goddamned chapter… The first, is somewhere in my house on my flash stick; the second mysteriously disappeared when my computer decided to crash. I think I had another third-version saved at college, which I cannot access, as I've lost my password. Is this a sign? … : (

When I've finally got into the actual plot of this fic, I will be going back to the time between chapters four and five, to do in more detail; this will most likely be in a sidefic. I will also, possibly, do one on the other pilots activities. Look out for them later : )

Chapter Five:

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap plop Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap plop Tap-

A small, serene smile played on plump cherry lips. Pale, elfin face tilted back, violet-indigo orbs slid shut. A gentle breeze played softly across his face, lifting his now near chin-length bangs from his face. A small, pink-stained white square was revealed, standard medical kit tape holding it in place.

Beneath, lay an angry but now clean crimson gash, stretching from just below his hair line to just above his eyebrow.

He was drenched to the skin; thick, heavy droplets fell, making their way through the heavy canopy. The surprisingly warm shower had progressed, from a faint mist, to heavier, faster falling drops, in a surprisingly small space of time.

It had been almost three months sin e he had left. Twelve long, glorious, wonderfully responsibility free weeks all to himself.

First, he had flown out to the good ol' US of A, the country of his ancestors-well, or so he assumed, as L2's original colonists were from the states. Three entire weeks of Greyhounds (1) and hitchhiking. It had been a rather…unique experience.

During the war, he had spent little time on missions in the states, and when there, mainly holed out one safe house or another, isolated during his brief time spent there. As a result, he had experienced very little of the culture there.

The culture was a bit of a shock, truth be told. It shouldn't have been, but it had, none the less.

Despite the recent months of hostility at worst, distain or plain nothingness at best, the general lack of manners and selfishness had been odd. Although the other pilots had barely tolerated him during the war, each had had a strong set of moral beliefs, ridged training on how to, on a base level, interact with their comrades, and a strict set of socially acceptable manners from their individual cultures or training, Quatre and Wufei in particular. This had resulted in an odd Arabien-Chinese mixture that left an air of formality, politeness and tolerance to blanked the majority of their safe houses.

And besides, despite the hostility and threats to his person during those numerous occasions that they were placed together, they had been in a war. It was somewhat excusable, and only to be expected.

These people, however, had no real excuse for their attitudes.

He had spent the first week or so in the big cities, regularly dropping into cyber cafes to check his inbox. By the eighth day, it was still empty. On the dame day, he almost got run over twice, just missed being shot once, and dodged an old lady wielding a deadly-looking handbag and cane by a mere inch. It was a long story… (2)

It was that particular cluster of events that helped him make his final decision. By six am the following morning, he had bought a bus ticket headed for Pennsylvania, closed down his email account and thrown his cell phone out of an eighth-floor window. Again, with some interesting results, but lets not go into details on that for now….

Finally, finally it allowed a new sense of freedom to settle over him. He no longer needed to worry about what they thought-what any of them thought; there would be no last-second call or email, letting him know that they had finally realised that they had been mistaken, that they did need him, that they did miss him, that they were sorry. Or, more likely…More likely what? Why would they call him to shout at him, to rant at or belittle him now? Perhaps, once, during the war-when he and his skills had still grudgingly been needed. But now? They would need to recognise and acknowledge his existence first. Not for anything less than another Mariemaya incident, and he doubted that they would be that eager to contact him, even then.

His final two weeks in the States were much more enjoyable. He didn't quite manage to make it to see each and every state, but he came damn close.

From there, he took a flight back to Europe, revisiting places he had only seen from the air in Deathscythe or briefly seen from a behind a locked safe-houses' window.

It had been fun-much more so then travelling around the states, and not just because of his new found sense of freedom. Going to countries with a new language-one that he could just about swear, apologise, and ask for directions to the nearest Pocky-selling supermarket in was more than a little scary, unnerving, and utterly, wonderfully, enlightening.

Germany, France, Holland, Belgium, Russia, Spain, Greece, Italy-all in just a little over four weeks. He aimed to go everywhere but Sanq at least once in the European leg of his journey.

By this point, the true Duo-the Duo whom of which glimpses had been showing during his time with Solo on the streets, had begun his return.

By the tenth week, he was closer to Asia then he was to the final leg of his Europian exploration-the United Kingdom, and so he decided to leave that for now, and return to it later.

It had been a hard choice, which to do first; China or Japan. He opted for visiting the smaller, busier of the two first; that way, if the hustle and bustle grew too much, he could be done quickly and go on a more relaxing week or three to the other.

He was looking forward to being in a country where he could understand what was being said around him once again. A relaxing change of pace-a wonderful, ancient culture and polite people; whatever could go wrong?

He had found a nice, calm, quiet peaceful forest, in one of the quieter, more isolated regions. He had decided to take a hike; nothing too strenuous, just a change of pace from hotels, tours, restaurants and built-up areas. Four days later, he was starting to regret that decision. ((A/N – And this is where I would have left it; the rest of this chapter is un-scripted, not re-written or heavily edited as chapters usually are))

'I suppose I should just be glad that I remembered to bring enough supplied with me for up to a month…Ch, some wartime habits are useful after all.' He thought to himself wryly.

He pushed his sodden bangs away from his face. His sturdy, well-worn boots, now closer to the 'falling apart' rather then 'much loved' end of the scale, had sunk an inch or so into the muddy, boggy grass.

'I would, of course, manage to get lost during such a heavy rainstorm on top of everything else…wonderful, just wonderful.' Despite his thoughts, the smile never once lifted from his lips. 'I still have all of my possessions with me…' violet shards slipped closed once again. '…and it is wonderfully peaceful out here, after all…'

He allowed himself to relax. He was safe, out here, in the middle of no-where. No-one to worry about, to protect, to fight; no one he needed to bring old masks out of their rapidly becoming dusty, unused boxes to impress or keep their spirits high.

'Just me…time for myself…'

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap plop-thud Tap-Tap-Tap-thud!-Tap-Tap plop-crack! Tap-Snick-Tap-

Within a heartbeat, he was moving. Closer and closer in the direction that the all too familiar, yet different sounds were coming from.

They could faintly be heard, half-masked through the thunderous sound of the rain falling through the previous silence.

He moved quickly and surely through his slippery surroundings, silent and swift as he was during the war. Not once did he slip or stumble, nor did he drop one of his few, precious possessions.

Tap-Tap-TapThud!-Tap-Tap plop-thud Tap-Tap-Tap-thud!-Tap-Tap plop-crack! Tap-Snick-Tap-

Mud, trees, bushes-nothing out of the ordinary.

Snick!-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap plop-Creeaaak-Tap-Tap-Tap-thud!-Tap-Tap plop-crack! Tap-Snick-Tap-

Snapped branches-small, unnoticed to the untrained eye.

Tap-Tap-Tap-bang-thud-Tap-Tap-plop-

Scratches, fallen leaves—obviously damaged, not by an animal from the looks of them.

As he drew closer to the sounds, he stopped. Checking his breathing, he made sure that his heart rate was as it always was when piloting and being interrogated alike during the war-steady and calm. Never let them see your fear-never, not even for a second, believe in that fear yourself. Hesitate, and die if you are lucky. If you are not lucky, it will be a civilian or a comrade that pays the price.

Using the dense trees for cover, he edged closer. Violet eyes, colder, more calculating then they had been in weeks-no months, longer still-not since the final battle, peered out, scanning, assessing the situation, so as to come up with the best plan of action.

Cherry lips fell open.

'What…the hell?'

To Be Continued

(1) Greyhounds – I have been told this is an American bus company; the quality of these buses, or so I have been informed, varies from state to state.

(2) This is one of the events that I may later return to in a sidefic.

A/N : Cookies to anyone that can guess what Duo-kun can see : )


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

Authors notes – this chapter has been written for around about a month now...The power of procrastination! Typing things up just takes too long at the moment...Expect the next chapter a lot faster (as it's already complete xD Just waiting to type it up, if this chapter gets enough responses) Still not completely happy with this chapter….more of a filler, really…it was part of the next chapter, but it got a little long, so….um, yea…review: o

Silent Revolution: Chapter Six:

Previously:

_Using the dense trees for cover, he edged closer. Violet eyes, colder, more calculating then they had been in weeks-no months, longer still-not since the final battle, peered out, scanning, assessing the situation, so as to come u__p with the best plan of action._

_Cherry lips fell open._

_'What…the hell?'_

A dirt streaked, scratched and slightly bloody once-pale hand slowly, silently lifted, reaching out blindly for an equally worse-for-wear arm. He firmly grasped a little of the flesh between his thumb and finger, pinching hard.

White teeth bit firmly at cherry cheribin cracked lips, trying to stop himself from crying out as he drew blood.

'That rules out a regular dream, then...' He watched, eyes narrowed and serious. 'That still leaves drug-induced hallucination-chemically or naturally induced...' he thought back, remembering some of the suspicious-looking fungi and plantlife that he had passed barely an hour eairler. 'But that wouldn't explain...why the hell spores would make me see...'

Hard violet shards followed the movement of the figures filling the small, circular clearing. Attempted to follow, would be more accurate. He could follow the majority of their movements, but at times, it became somewhat of a...blur.

The small clearing was a mes to his trained eyes. Out of the tall mixture of slender and thick trunks, many showed damage and abuse. Nicks in the bark, broken and snapped branches, fallen leaves, a messy, muddy imprint in the earft at its base.

In the centre of the clearing, lay a prone body. Another-taller, older, stood above it, shielding it.

The bodies of a dozen or so-all bloody, some decapitated, some missing limbs, some with small silvery glints-needles-sticking out of various limbs, lay scattered through out the clearing. They were obviously left from where they fell, judging from their positions.

Duo studied each of the fallen bodies meticulacly, eyes moving quickly between each lifeless form. His experiences, from not only the war, but from his childhood as well, allowed him to recognise, even from a distance, the professional, experienced way in which each of the bodies had been, if not swiftly, at least successfully slaughtered. It was blatently obvious, judging from the wounds, that many had been dealt fatal, incapascitating wounds that would still leave the victim aware durig their last drawn-out moments, but defenceless.

It was clear, from his view, who had delt the most damage, who had been responsiable for so many scattered corpses. It was also clear that a child, or at the very least, a young teen lay, unconscious or near enough, in the centre of battle. A battle that his protector seemed to rapidly be weakened by, steadily and surely failing, falling, as the last of his opponents kept coming at him, again and again.

It was not, however, clear who was in the right. It was not clear why they were fighting, or what pre-empted the attack. It was not clear who started what. And so, it wasn't clear, to Duo at least, to whose aid he should go to, if he should even interfear at all.

He looked closer, searching the clearing for more clues, for some hint at what he should do.

A small, oddly shaped dimond-metal, with a circular handle, lay at the base of one of the trees. A four-pointed metal star, metres above it, embedded deeply towards the upper-branches. Strange, clear cord seemed to train off of the prone body in the centre of the clearing. A handful of leaves, each neatly skewered by a stray needle.

A peice of cloth-tattered, bloody and muddy stood out against the swamped grass. A glint of metal could faintly be seen from within the twisted material.

Focusing his attention back on the figures, it fast became clear that, responsiable or not, his chance to intervine was quickly slipping through his fingers. The tallest in the small clearing, towering above the fallen body of his comrades, stumbled, his attention taken momentarily from him. That split-second was all that it took for one of the remaining opponents to take that opening, and to go for the fallen one.

'Shit..."

To be continued

The next chapter will be much, much longer I swear.


	7. Chapter 7

Somewhere I belong – Chapter Seven

A/N – I've never written a fight scene before. I have also only seen about seven episodes of Naruto. This may show...um, all of the Naruto references will come from what i've read up about it, or from fanfiction :) Any obsessed or knowledgeable fans out there, feel free to contact me to help correct timelines, details, etc.

My apologise for the delay; this has been complete for well over two weeks now...I've just not wanted to type it all up...

Any gaiaonline users: ) come talk to ladyshi on Gaia—she's always bored xD (Hinthint—thats me on there : )

Chapter Seven

"Shit..."

Slender, scared fingers swiftly slid into his bad. Grasping the handle in one hand, the other sliding the clip into place with steady, sure fingers.

Three shots in quick succession snapped through the silent twilight. Each bore through flesh and muscle and bone, lodging deep within their intended targets. Each shot, to disable and disarm, not to kill.

Flashback

Click Bang Thud Click Bang Thud Click Band Thud Click Bang Thud

Impossibly wide violet eyes watched, crystal streams pooling, trickling down his grubby cheeks. A darker, dirtier, larger hand pressed firmly over cracked cherubim lips, silencing him. Preventing him from giving their position away.

Twin sets of amethyst and emerald shards watched, as two figures, each in blood spattered burgundy and white uniform, left the alleyway.

Seconds ticked past, turning to minutes, dragging on endlessly. The elder of the two refused to lessen his hold on the smaller, struggling, silently sobbing body, not until the unnatural silence faded and died, returning to the natural sounds of the bustling streets, now that the danger was gone.

He released the smaller boy, allowing him to escape from their hiding place behind a cluster of overflowing, rusted dumpsters. Such spots were commonplace in the dirty backstreets and small alleyways of L2.

The small, filthy brunette stopped a few feet from the fallen, lifeless bodies.

"Come on..." the elder of the two started to pull him away. "There aint noth'in we can do for 'im now."

"Bu-but...they didn't..." He whimpered, trying to take another step closer. "Solo?!"

The blond pulled the boy back against his chest, away from the rapidly spreading puddle of crimson, oozing across the scuffed concrete.

He let out a sigh, resting his chin on top of the other boys head he was like a big brother to him, his little shadow. Never one without the other, not since the day he had found him. Little Duo.

"Jus' cause they didn' do nothin', don' mean that they're safe. It don' ma'er to them, whose ta blame. 's just easier to get rid of everyone. Safer for 'em" He tried to explain. If he were a good big brother, he would protect him from all of this, would shield him from the horrors. But you couldn't afford to, not on L2.

End Flashback

As with his first meeting with Heero, he aimed to disable, to hurt, to distract, rather than to kill.

Flashback

"Duo! What the hell was that?" A voice snapped over the com system, as the teen lowered his weapon.

"What now, G?" Duo said, as he removed the empty clip, checking his gun for damage.

"What do you mean, what? You missed every shot!"

Violet eyes blinked in confusion. He turned back to his targets. "Huh?"

Each of the targets were riddled with bullets. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, G. I hit all the places I aimed!"

"None of those shots would have killed, goddamnit. You're a liability at this point. There's no way in hell I'm letting you near a mobile sit in this stage. I'm training you to-"

Violet eyes flashed. "-You're training me to follow orders, AND to use my own common sense and intuition, not to be a goddamned robot. So either cut me some slack or find another fuckin' guy to play guinea pig for you."

He blinked. Crackling laughter flowed down the line. "I knew there was a reason for keeping you around."

End Flashback

It wasn't enough. It slowed down one of the three, distracted him enough that he stumbled. It alerted the other two attackers, in addition to the remaining, conscious 'victim' that, not only was there another present, but also exactly where his position was.

Two of them broke off, falling upon him within a moment. Each wore, he noted blankly, an odd mask and what appeared to be a uniform of some sort.

Falling to the ground, he dropped into a forward roll, no time to tuck his precious braid from harm's way into his shirt. It wasn't enough to save him completely though, as the shorter, more agile of his masked attackers swiped at his cloth covered thigh, the metal of the oddly-shaped weapon biting deeply into his flesh, tearing effortlessly through cloth and skin.

Blood trickling freely from the deep wound, he made a grab for his bag. Safety clicked into place in record time, he shoved the weapon quickly but carelessly into the dirty duffle.

A gun, as such quick-paced close range would do him no good, two against one. If he was lucky enough to get one, the other would surely take the chance. He grasped blindly for the hilts of his spare knives, made from his beloved Deathscythe. He, as he had become used to, already had several knives hidden away on his body. One of the many habits that had stuck within him through the streets, through his training, through the war, into the peace. Still, better not give away more than necessary to ones enemies.

Using the momentum of the roll, he flung himself towards the clearing, slashing out at one of his attackers as he moved. Landing in a crouch, he made sure to keep both parties in his line of sight.

Movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see it. The larger, protective figure, his attention fully focused on him, the third attacker-approaching rapidly, weapon drawn, unnoticed.

Violet eyes widened.

Without a thought, he turned, gundanium blade held expertly between slender, scarred fingers. He could see the larger man's eyes narrow, the calculating look of mistrust and now of anger directed clearly at him. Fear underlay in dark grey depths. Fear that Duo recognised all too well, that he, himself, had mirrored months earlier-fear not for his own life, but for those around him-for his comrades. Fear that he would fail them, that they would get hurt-that they would die, because of him.

He could see the fear turning to anger, to determination, as he lifted his own weapon, preparing to defend himself against, what he presumed would be an attack directed at him.

Thud!

Black-grey eyes widened as the knife flew past him, missing him by a hairs breath. The sharp weapon had sliced easily through flesh and muscle and blood, lodging firmly into bone. Eyes rolled, a faint gurgling barely audible, slumping down besides the still unconscious form.

Crack.

He moved, seconds too late. A twig snapped, giving him warning too late. He could feel the flesh on his back-searing pain-could still hear flesh and cloth tearing. He could see the crimson poling beneath him, violet eyes wide. Pale fingers became slack. His bag fell, his body following soon after.

Black-grey eyes, still full of anger, of mistrust-now lacking fear, but filled with confusion, were the last thing to penetrate Duo's mind, as he let the abyss consume him, falling blissfully into the realms of unconsciousness.

To Be Continued

A/N ... I will come back to work on this eventually...I swear...

Now:

Does kohonah have modern technology?

Does Anyone Know Who they are yet?

Cookies for everyone : )


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